


Inappropriate and Unseemly

by Valpur



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Multi, Smut, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 19:29:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1163574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valpur/pseuds/Valpur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>As if the dwarves were not enough.</i><br/>Lindir closed his eyes and stopped halfway down the stairway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inappropriate and Unseemly

_As is the dwarves were not enough.  
_ Lindir closed his eyes and stopped halfway down the stairway.  
 _As is the dwarves were not enough. Obviously._  
There was nothing he could do. Even with his eyes closed he could still see them there, squat, smelly and with those hideous boots placed on the table. Poor Nirion was in shock, his hands shaking so much he could not play his harp. He had spent half an hour repeating “Did you see how he was looking at me? Lindir, really, did you see him?”  
Hard to miss: that mangy dwarf literally undressed him with his eyes.  
No, the dwares were definitely not his main concern.  
Lindir gently pressed his fingertips on his eyelids; slowly, those pictures of food thrown against the statues and mud on the marble terrace turned red and vanished.  
When he opened his eyes he could breath more easily. Still, even if the company of Thorin Oakenshield was only an horrible memory, the princes had not yet returned from their hunt.  
Now that those hairy, hideous creatures had retreated from his thoughts, Lindir was able to fully devote himself to the concern for the twins.  
The marble staircase glowed pink and white under the rays of the sunset, the Bruinen roared in the distance and the horses were quietly snoring. When he reached the stables he stopped for a moment to bask in the, clean, comforting smell of hay and animals. Music and the smell of food up there in the palace were far away. There were just him and the well-groomed, well-fed horses.  
Lindir looked at his blue dunic; there was some straw under his shiny boots but he was overall acceptable. Soon he would have had to return to his duties.  
 _I can wait for them some more time, perhaps._  
The corridor between the housings of the horses had been wiped, but there was some hay on the ground. Lindir looked around but even the stable boys were already gone; he raised an eyebrow: maybe he should talk to the groom. Surely there was room for improvement.  
His feet and concern led him along the rows of colorful rumps -black and gray and palomino-up to a pair of empty bins.  
A sigh slumped his shoulders. He had hoped, at least a little, to see them occupied by the two princes’ bays. He would never have dared to say it out loud, but he believed them to be two inconsiderate to hunt orcs alone. He had covered several times their raids pretending total ignorance of the facts, but it still meant betraying his lord’s trust, and he did not like it. He knew it was silly toanguish (but no, it was not: taking care of the house and family of Elrond was his duty and his vocation) but could not avoid it.  
The shadows in Imladris were creeping in the stables.  
It was time to go. Lindir adjusted his crown with the tip of his fingers, squared his shoulders and turned to leave.  
He didn’t walk but a few steps when a distant sound vibrated in the air. His ears pricked up before he could even figure out whence it came from, but within a few moments the regular noise of hooves on stone pointed at him.  
The muscles on his face began to quarrel to decide whether to dissolve into a relieved smile or stiffen in disapproval. Lindir opted for an always valid polite grace.  
Elrohir and Elladan came with a loud noise at a gallop. In the dim light of dusk their dark hair flapped in the air like flags.  
There was no need light to see they were covered in black blood.  
"Lindir," laughed one of the two. Elladan, for sure: his voice was slightly hoarser than his brother’s. "You have a mirror like that of the lady of Lothlorien to predict our return?"  
The two horses were restrained in front of him; they were covered in sweat and there was foam at the corners of the mouth. Lindir smiled and bowed his head.  
"No, my lords. I was hoping to see you return and I was lucky. "  
"We were, too! Ah, what a day”, said Elrohir. An affectionate slap on the neck of his horse and in a flash he dismounted. His twin did the same.  
"Is everyone gone?" he asked, looking around.  
"The groom and the stable boys have retreated", said Lindir. He lifted his hand and grabbed the reins; now he would have had to wash before dinner, but the joy of seeing the princes safe back home again was too great to worry about dirt. A smile spread over his face. "If you wish I can go and call them."  
"Don’t worry”, said Elladan. With a quick gesture he undid the straps on his armor and dropped it . The rattle did not frighten the two steeds .  
Elrohir was taking off his armor too, judging by metallic sound.  
"We met a band of fourteen orcs ," he said while slipping off his bracers. " And not one has returned to tell what they had seen ."  
"This is worrying , my lord. They are becoming less circumspect . "  
"Caution is not the most pronounced orcish feature”, Elrohir continued . There was a hard note in his voice.  
"I ran out of arrows”, his brother continued. " I was able to recover some but not all of them . A message for those who will find the carrions . Lindir, you think it's possible to leave our equipment here? I'm tired and I do not want to bother anyone”.  
Lindir nodded. Stripped of the metal, in simple dark gray tunic, the two sons of Elrond were no less impressive; taller than their father and with broad shoulders they were a remarkable vision.  
No, he was _not_ flushing. _Definitely._  
"It is no problem, my lord. I will call someone later. "  
Elladan ran a hand through his hair and took the reins from Lindir’s grasp. Perhaps it was just an impression, but he could have sworn that his slender and calloused fingers had lingered on his skin. He swallowed. The horses were taken away.  
"If you do not need my services I’ll be back to the palace."  
"No, wait," interrupted Elrohir, almost plaintively. "Did not you say that you were glad to see us?"  
In the evening light his eyes looked blacks when he winked. Lindir almost laughed. Sure it was hot in there. Blame the horses.  
Elladan emerged from the cubicle and rubbed his hands on his thighs.  
"I'm more than happy to know you are safe. I’ll fetch some torches, then ... "  
"We’ll need no torches".  
Again that hoarse note. Elladan walked past his twin; Lindir had the fleeting impression of a knowing glance between the two.  
Hot. It was really _hot_. It was not going to happen, was it? Elladan was so near his soft breath caressed his skin.  
The hand that touched his cheekbone was rough. Lindir swallowed and closed his eyes.  
"You’re not in a hurry, are you?"  
He wanted to say no, that after all he was in no hurry. Of course, in the palace someone would have been looking for him – everyone sought him every time something required his supervision, and this happened surprisingly often-but  he could wait a moment longer. He would have said something else, but Elladan’s big mouth covered his.  
His knees turned to water. He would have been shocked if it did not already happened. But they were just kids at the time. Ignorant and happy and curious. It had been centuries and Lindir thought they had forgotten.  
He was wrong.  
Elladan's lips were only deceptively gentle. When Lindir slightly opened his own -could he have done differently? – they became greedy. A hand grabbed his neck, the other his loins. And a third stroked his back. Elrohir chuckled in the shadows.  
With an inarticulate sob  he clung to Elladan’s tunic. His tongue acted of his own, moving and darting and skimming off any suspicion of inadequacy.  
He could not have left that kiss even for all the gold in the world. Even if not for those strong arms that held him,  it would have been his own body to beg him to stay.  
"Battle warms blood," Elrohir whispered in his ear. His strong hands grabbed him by his hips; he felt light bites on the soft, exposed skin of his neck. The touch of sharp teeth, so delicate it send chills down his spine. He would have breathed, but it was all so unimportant when compared to the mouth of Elladan toring his.  
It was definitely hot there, between those two bodies pressed against his, sweaty, still stained with blood and death.  
Lindir knew why they hunted. Why they ignored all caution for the glory of massacre. The smiling face of Celebrian shone in his memory.  
It was only a moment. The fingers of Elrohir rolled up the fabric of his dress, lifted it up. First it was the evening breeze on his bare skin, then a hungry touch.  
The heat from his loins was almost unbearable, his pants too tight.    
Elladan pulled away from him so suddenly that LIndir staggered. But he did not move too far; his soft breath still brushed his lips. He could not say whence came the concentration to put those words together.  
“M-My lords”, and it didn’t matter who he was talking to, “your father would disapprove…”  
Elrohir caught his neck. He felt his fingers trickling on his belly, waves of desire and chills that followed the glowing trail on his skin.  
"No," he murmured. The tip of his tongue touched his pointed ear.  
"Definitely not," echoed Elladan. With an abrupt gesture he grabbed the waistband of his pants and yanked.  
Lindir threw his head back with a groan. The crown became entangled in his hair; it almost hurt. He did not care.  
"It would be inappropriate ..." Elrohir continued. His hands ran on his chest and then down to his hips, around his waist. Along his back and even lower. The tips of the prince’s fingers slipped over the edge of his pants.  
“Y-Yes…” Lindir agreed, very softly.  
“And unseemly", Elladan added, hoarsely. He fumbled with his uncooperative belt. Lindir would have been ready to tear it off, but eventually the buckle gave up. Elrohir took advantage of this: he slid deeper into his clothes and his pants surrendered, slipping down his slender thighs.  
"If you do not want to, tell us, please," he whispered. And there was the distant shadow of anger, mixed with sincere affection and desperate need in those words.  
Inappropriate. Unseemly. This and much more, and if the situation was already far from court protocols it might as well continue that way. Lindir grabbed Elladan by his hair and pulled him close. Tooth nicked his lip and the mild flavor of the blood made aroused him. Lindir put his hand behind him and turned as he could. Elrohir leaned over to lay a burning kiss on his lips.  
"No. _I want it_ "A moan, a breath coloured in words.  
The twins smiled. He could not see them -it was darker, now-but he felt it in his bones. He felt in the sudden tenderness with which Elrohir slipped off his robe, in Elladan’s forehead against his, in their caresses on his skin, on his erect member.  
A hot, wet touch weather between his buttocks. Lindir held his breath while Elrohir played with him, opened him up with expert and light touches  
Elladan knelt in front of him.  
“No, n-no… a prince should never kn… oh!”  
Elladan's mouth was warm, alive. If it had seemed hungry when he was kissing him, teasing his tongue, now it was almost too much. Thousands of years of discipline didn’t provided him with enough self-control to prevent him from taking the elf at his feet by the, trembling, to push him slowly against himself.  
"A prince does what he wants," Elrohir laughed softly. A finger and then two fingers inside him, up and down. Lindir blinked his eyes and opened his mouth in a silent scream. And before he could fully understand what was happening the fingers was replaced by something bigger, slippery and blunt. Elrohir stood there for a moment, pressing slowly. Almost inside him. Almost enough. He stroked Lindir’s face with both hands and ent his head back.  
"Are you sure?" he asked again.  
There was not need for an answer. Elladan’s tongue moved back and forth, his lips tightened.  
Lindir grabbed Elrohir’s member and held him still; a movement of his pelvis, wuick and strong backwards, and he felt him make his way inside him. He could not help but tense up for a moment -how many centuries had passed since the last time? - but Elrohir understood. He stood, arms around Lindir’s chest. He could hear his heart pounding against his shoulder blades, his Adam's apple flicking against his head.  
And while this happened, the most analytical part of his mind, efficient and precise, took care to point out to him that in that very moment he was in the stables of Imladris, in the dark, half naked. One of the two sons of Elrond was kneeling in front of him and was doing _wonderful_ things with his tongue, the other had grabbed his buttocks and was deciding whether or not to start moving. The heirs to the throne.  
It was not the right moment. Nor he did it often, however  but it certainly was not the most suitable situation . Yet Lindir laughed, too full of wonder and joy to stop , and his two companions did not seem to take offense. One hand still on the head of Elladan, one arm wrapped behind him, around Elrohir, he pushed him against himself .  
It was absurd . Absurd and beautiful , and so – what did they say? - inappropriate and unseemly and fantastic. Elrohir clung to him, his nails digging into the pale skin of his chest.  
It sure had to depend on the fact that they were twins and shared their morther’s womb. Either that, or who knows what kind of magic allowed them to move at such a coordinated pace. The shots inside him were slow, deep and burning strokes that reverberated throughout his whole body . Elladan was stroking his hips and thighs . He looked up and smiled without slowing down: Lindir saw his reflection in his eyes, a twinkle in those two dark pools.  
“M-My lords, I’m afraid I… I… not… much longer…”  
A very eloquent flicker of his eyebrow: _be my guest_.  
He did not want this to happen. He did not _have_ to, probably. Well, actually, in retrospect he _did_ want to. And anyway, it was too late . Elrohir grabbed him by the hips and quickened, stronger, less controlled.  
He heard it from his knees. Burning and weak, he had to cling to Elladan’s shoulders not to fall. That thick heat concentrated in his groin, there, somewhere between Elladan’s mouth and his brother’s member. More and more intense,  it collapsed in on itself . All the air went out of his chest but he did not need to breathe, it was so irrelevant, in that moment.  
Lindir closed his eyes. The colors of the sunset swirled in his mind and in front of his closed eyelids, red and purple flames and strange shadows .  
He was shaking . His legs and hands trembled, as much as his lips wide open in a gasp, a high-pitched whine from his throat.  
For a moment, everything ceased to exist, time stopped flowing and the stars danced in front of him, inside of him.  
And then that burning heat exploded. It washed away all the strength that allowed him to stay on his feet, all his self-control, and turned it into a gasping cry.  
It lasted long, too much for a body made of flesh and blood. In the delirium of pleasure Lindir was vaguely aware of the quake that shook Elrohir, strong hands clutched to his hips, a last jab that inflamed his skin.  
Elladan held him , and did not let him go until he was done.  
Lindir, shaken , felt him give him one last popping kiss. With one fluid motion the vast dark shape rose and stood before him. Elrohir’s breath was broken; he slipped away and stepped back.  
It was cold, now.  
Elladan rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth.  
That's it. It was over, and now it was time to compose himself. As far as possible, with his pants down to his ankles and the tunic lost somewhere in the stables. Nothing that the chamberlain of Elrond could not manage; Lindir 's voice was almost steady when he spoke. It was hard to hold off the smile.  
" Welcome back . Welcome back , my lords".  
Elrohir fastened his belt and took his chin between his fingers.  
"Thank you, Lindir”. It would have seemed very serious and very noble, in a different situation. He bent down and placed a kiss on his forehead.  
Elladan stepped forward  and with a meticulous gesture of two fingers he straightened Lindir’s crown on his head, pushing back the smooth dark hair that had fallen over his forehead.  
"It's always a pleasure to come home. Now, however, you should prepare; our father will be waiting . "  
Without another word they turned and went away.  
They were halfway up the stairs when Lindir, in the light of the far away torches, saw them giggling.  
" Ah , Lindir?"  
"Yes, sir?"  
"Do not worry if you’re little late: we will say that you've taken care of the _horses_ ".  
And settling pats on each other’s back they left.  
Lindir pulled up his pants, shaking his head half resigned and half amused .  
 _As if the dwarves were not enough._

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I'm not a native English speaker and this is a translation of one of my works. While I really hope you'll enjoy it, I would like to ask you all to correct me if I made any mistake. Thank you!


End file.
